


as a friend

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: (989): I miss your penis. I'm telling you this as a friend, like its just a really great penis. You should be proud of it.





	as a friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literaryoblivion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/gifts), [Star55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star55/gifts).



> Based on the TFLN tweet from the summary, brought to my attention by Freck. Who's an enabling enabler.

At first Tyler thinks the text came from Posey. It’s something he’d expect from him, completely without context or preamble, but with enough history that it wouldn’t seem super creepy. They did live together, after all, and occasional accidental nudity -- well, accidental  _ sighting _ of said nudity -- was something that did happen. And sending something this random that’s  _ this _ personal is absolutely Posey’s style. 

Then he looks at the top of the screen again, and almost chokes on the water he’s drinking. Because the text didn’t come from Posey. 

_D_.

That’s it, that’s how Dylan’s number is saved in his phone, because not only is it what Tyler calls him, but it’s also unassuming enough that only some people would match it to the person. He’s had enough people looking over his shoulder to know better, and to save people’s numbers either by nicknames like this, or by full names to keep things appropriate. Dylan is one of those who gets a nickname -- and not a cutesy one that’d give too much away -- because he’s the one whom Tyler texts  _ a lot _ , and it’s not like he wants to advertise it. And “D” could be anyone, really. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

_ I miss your penis. _

Tyler stares at the phone some more, slumped in his chair on set as he’s waiting to be called for the next shot. The penis in question twitches in his shorts, and he winces because  _ now is not the time, dammit _ . Sure, the competition on who’s gonna wear the shortest of shorts seemed fun when it started, but he wasn’t counting on Dylan texting things like this. And he can’t reply now. Can’t, because he has no idea where that conversation might lead, and if it goes any further than what his mind is already trying to come up with, the shorts will be  _ very _ inconvenient. 

It’s his own fault, really, for not checking all his texts before he got to set. 

Tyler reluctantly taps into the reply space, and tries to think of a reply that’s not going to start an immediate conversation. Then he spots the time the text was sent -- 2am -- and it suddenly makes a little more sense. 

**I see your reunion with the Maze Runner crew went well.**

He locks the phone’s screen right after he exits the messaging app, and when the PA calls his name, he’s relieved that he can leave the phone behind. It does take the whole walk around the house they’re filming at to clear his head though. Because  _ penis talk _ from Dylan. 

The shoot and the rest of the guys keep his mind occupied with normal things, and it's only on his way to the hotel that he thinks about the text again. He's checked his phone during breaks and lunch, but there was no response. There still isn't one, but Tyler isn't surprised. Considering that Dylan was still coherent enough to be texting at 2am, chances are that his hangover is of the “leave me alone to die” kind. 

Once he's out of the shower -- a long one, to give his body some hydration back after the whole day in the sun -- there is a bunch of notifications right in the middle of his phone screen. 

_ Shit dude, sorry.  _

_ But I do.  _

_ I mean, I do think you should be proud. Your dick is awesome.  _

_ Fuck. Sorry. Will I get away with saying I'm still drunk?  _

Tyler chuckles at the texts and the rambling. Dylan’s not Stiles, but sometimes they have things in common, and the chattiness -- with people he knows well -- is one of them. He’s yet to understand why some people find it annoying or anything but charming. Then again, he’s maybe a little biased when it comes to Dylan’s… anything. 

**No.**

It’s a simple text, and yet it takes him a good few minutes to press send. Because it means that he’s opening a conversation which could lead just about anywhere. 

The reply comes faster than he expected it to.

_ Shit. Thought you’d let my stupidity go this time. _

**You’re not stupid.**

_ Maybe not now. I was a drunk idiot last night though. _

_ I mean, it wasn’t a false statement. Just not something I meant for you to know. _

_ Well, no, I want you to know that your dick is awesome. You probably do. _

_ Okay, please text back to stop me.  _

**LOL**

_ That’s not funny. You’re not funny.  _

**Lies. I’m hilarious.**

_ I believe that’s my line. _

**Except when you say it, it’s a lie.**

_ I am wounded Hoech. Wounded. _

**LOL**

_ You’re laughing at me. I’m mortally offended. _

**And yet you’re still texting me.**

_ I can stop. I just wanted to make sure that you know that I meant that text. Just didn’t mean to actually send it. Because awkward. _

**Maybe a little. Didn’t know you paid attention. Didn’t expect you to pay attention.**

_ I don’t have your locker room “no homo” training. I liked what I saw then. _

**I feel like I should be offended by the “no homo” comment. But strangely I get what you mean.**

_ Locker room training to not view other guys that way. You’ve got it. I don’t. _

**Who says I do?**

_ Doubt you’ve ever seen me or Posey naked and saw us as anything else but your team buddies. _

**Not Posey, no.**

He pauses and looks away from the screen, trying to catch his breath. It’s a confession, what he just said, and he’s… he wasn’t expecting the conversation to lead to that today. 

_ Oh. _

_ Me? _

Tyler stares at the question and hovers his fingers over the phone screen. Because yes, Dylan. Yes, he noticed back then. He just wasn’t planning on  _ ever _ admitting it, because for all he knows, Dylan’s never been into anything but girls. And admitting bisexuality was a surefire way to make things awkward. Only a few people in Tyler’s life know, and one of them is Colton, who’s been sworn to secrecy. Colton, and who isn’t out either. 

**Yes.**

Again, sending the reply takes a while. Tyler types it, then deletes the word, then types it again. It’s the only word on his mind, so he eventually bites the bullet and hits send. Then he tries to ignore the dots indicating that Dylan’s typing a response, and he fails miserably, eyes glued to the ominous sign of… well, nothing good. It either means that Dylan’s writing a long-winded rejection, or that he doesn’t know how to write it. 

He’s about to toss the phone on his bed and ignore it for the rest of the night when a text finally comes through.

_ Me too. _

Tyler stares, and then another text comes.

_ Not me, obviously. You. I noticed. As I made painfully clear with the text last night.  _

When he reads it, Tyler chuckles quietly, a little from the shock of Dylan’s admission, a little from relief that it wasn’t a flat out rejection. 

**I’m surprised you remember. It’s been years.**

Too long, if anyone was to ask Tyler. It’s been way too long since they were living in the same space, since he had a chance to be around Dylan for that amount of time. Sure, on set, they were still close and hung out the year after the move to LA, and they had on set time together too. But the last season was… well, there were multiple reasons for why they weren’t spending as much time together anymore. Tyler refuses to acknowledge his own avoidance of anything Dylan-shaped during the filming of that season. Or during the breaks, when he’d hide in his trailer and complained to Colton about the lack of screentime for him and Dylan together. 

_ It has. I might need a memory refresher. _

Tyler is glad he’s not drinking or eating, because the response from Dylan would’ve made him spit out anything that was in his mouth. It’s not like it’s a shocker for Dylan to be direct, Tyler’s just never had it directed  _ at him _ . Not in this way. Not when it feels almost like flirting. He wonders for a beat if that’s what the conversation has turned into. 

_ Only if that’s something you’d be okay with.  _

_ Maybe not like, texting, but meet up? _

_ Normal meeting up, I mean. You’re in Texas, right? We could, if you have a free weekend coming up. It’s been months, man.  _

_ Okay, please say something before I propose something too embarrassing, like that I won’t blow you on the first date.  _

_ Shit, how do I unsend a text?  _

_ Hoech? _

_ Sorry. _

Tyler winces, because he’s imagining Dylan’s face going from eager and amused to panicking and worried. He quickly presses on the screen so that Dylan can at least see that he’s still alive, then realises that seeing the ominous dots on the screen is probably worse. But he’s not sure what to reply, since his  _ mind _ has been utterly blown by Dylan’s words. 

**BJs are a third date thing.**

He almost facepalms when he sends the text, but it’s done. And it was Dylan who mentioned the date thing in the first place, so Tyler isn’t reading too much into where their conversation has gone. At least he hopes he isn’t. 

_ Right. So, breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Then BJ? _

_ I’ve been told I have the mouth for it. _

Tyler falls onto his bed and breathes for a moment, one arm thrown over his face, fingers wrapped tightly around the phone. Because Dylan isn’t wrong, and Tyler is all too aware -- thanks to several unmentionable dreams and fantasies -- just how much of a mouth for blow jobs Dylan has. He’s not going to ask  _ where _ Dylan heard it, or who it was that told him, but it’s not something that Tyler hasn’t thought about before. 

He takes a few deep breaths before he looks at his phone again. 

_ And well, we already established that I think your dick is great.  _

Tyler groans again, his dick very much interested in the imagery that Dylan’s texts are providing. 

**Date first? I could fly over two weeks from now, long weekend. Or you could, when you get time off. It’s off the radar here.**

_ I’m off this weekend, we’re still just rehearsing. That OK? Too soon? _

**Let me know when, I’ll come get you from Austin. And it’s been years. Not too soon.**

_ Sap. Can’t wait. I’ll text you the deets when I get them. It’s a date. _

Tyler is still grinning when he puts the phone down on his nightstand. He didn’t think they’d  _ ever _ get there, let alone that it’d take drunk-texting, but he’s not going to complain. 

When his phone beeps with a text from Dylan a little while later, it makes Tyler downright giddy to see the flight confirmation. 

**See you soon.**

_ Can’t wait. _

He would say that he doesn’t spend the rest of the evening smiling, but it would be a blatant lie. 

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
